I Can Hear You Now
by Boofeh
Summary: Neku's life, pre and post game. What's changed, what has stayed the same, and what the hell is he going to do with himself now? Contains some bad words and MEGA spoilers, so tread with caution. Some JoshuaxNeku is slightly implied.


Math.

Double Math, first thing on Monday mornings.

It never bothered me as much as it bothered the other brats in my class.

They'd whine, they'd moan, they'd scuff their feet, they'd yawn, they'd bitch, they'd try to get the teacher off track to get out of work, they'd try to piss him off, and they'd try to worm lollipops out of him.

Yeah, our year 10 Math teacher gives out lollipops.

He's also everyone's favorite teacher because of this.

I kind of liked him before I found out that he bribed the kids with sweets. He was cheerful, always to the point and precise, incredibly patient with the dim-witted morons that sat in the back row, and he had a funny laugh. It was a sort of raspy bark, and it always made me chuckle, even if we didn't think the same things were humorous.

A lot of kids hate Math, but I can't see why. It's pretty simple – all you have to know is how to do one thing and you're set for the rest of the topic. Pythagoras' Theorem. A squared times B squared equals C squared. You'd think it'd be easy enough to grasp the concept, but it took the idiots in my grade six weeks to remember the small formula and the rest of the semester to learn how to use it.

Space and measurement. All you had to do was learn the formula and you could do any equation thrown at you. If you knew that the volume of a circle equals Pi radius squared, counted with all of your fingers and toes, you'd get it right. It was simple, really.

Algebra. Just substituting a number for a letter. Simple algebra is actually a lot easier than normal math, because sometimes you don't even have to figure out an answer. Just group the like terms, add a bunch of plus signs and crosses and tada, your answer. Not quite brain surgery. Plus, if you fuck up, all you get is a calm explanation on how to do it right and a lollipop if you tried your hardest. No fuss, no death, no blood… just the ink from your pen and the wonderful artificial colours and flavorings of your lollipop.

Today was no different. More than half the class couldn't find their calculators or their pens, or they'd left their books in their locker and needed to go on a fifteen-minute goose chase across campus to find the books under their desk, or they felt sick, or they were just plain _dumb._ The poor teacher was at his wit's end – barely had time to scribble "Read pages 104-9 and complete questions 1-6. Fail and face homework." onto the whiteboard before he had to break up a punch up that had broken out in the back row.

We'd done these questions last week. However, the cocky rat in the back row had lost a tooth or two, and the brawny Neanderthal he sat with had a bloody nose, so it didn't look like I'd get to point out his error any time soon.

Bored out of my brains, I began to doodle in my book. Before long, my page was covered in graffiti-like swirls and designs, similar to the style of the legendary graphic artist, CAT. I'm not gonna go into a rant about what CAT is, because if you don't know about CAT you need to go scrub your brain with some steel wool.

Once, a kid took my book while I was dreaming about meeting the elusive CAT. That day had been just as chaotic as this one, and my entire page was covered in street art. He'd started looking through it, but I'd snatched it back and gave him a nasty paper cut and my best death glare.

That's what you get.

The rest of the double passed in a CAT-induced daze, except for the part where I'd randomly started wondering if I'd be able to feel someone poking my brain. I sometimes get random thoughts like that. Something completely unrelated to whatever I'm thinking about and it'll throw me off for the whole day. It's kind of bizarre.

By the time the bell rang for morning tea I'd drawn a bunch of tribal tattoo designs. I'll probably never get a tattoo, and I don't think I'll land a job as a tattoo artist, but I guess I could draw some designs. Some of those really annoying 'nice' girls who like to compliment randoms on everything about them have said that my drawings will end up on someone's skin one day. But those girls are just plain annoying, so I doubt it.

At recess I sat where I usually sat. Away from anything that was capable of talking to me. Once, some random kid who must have been new to the school came up and started rambling about timetables. After about ten minutes of me just staring past him, he finally got the hint and went to find someone else to bug.

I had a friend once, many years ago. My best friend. He jokingly called me a social reject, but I just shook my head. Society hadn't rejected me, I had rejected society. Besides, I sat next to him in every class and ate with him every lunchtime and we hung out together almost every day – how did that make me a reject?

He died a couple of days after that, and I sat on my own from then on.

The bell rang, so rudely interrupting my reminiscing. Looking down, I saw that I hadn't even touched my morning tea. Oh well, I'd had a big breakfast that morning, I could easily make it to lunch.

Next class was Literature. Sweet merciful Jesus. I hate Literature. Literature was nothing like Maths – Maths made sense. It had rules, sure, but these rules were based on shit that actually existed. Like, nudge a ball down the stairs with your toe and it'll roll so far depending on added factors, like how hard the nudge was, the size of the ball and the number of stairs. It was real. But Literature… some high whack job must have come up with it. Grammar, sentence structure, spelling... None of it was real. There's no evidence behind it, just a bunch of sounds coming out of someone's mouth and letters scrawled onto a page. The whole procedure made my head spin.

Also, the Literature teacher didn't give out any sweets. Not that I cared or anything, but still. Nothing more rewarding than an apple lollipop to congratulate yourself on a perfectly calculated triangle.

After Literature came English. English is even worse than Japanese, with all of its stupid synonyms, antonyms and rules, and that annoying accent. English makes me want to choke. Frigging English and their frigging Ls and THs. Get out of my country.

And so went the rest of my day. It was very ordinary. Extremely monotonous. Damn, I hate this town. Shibuya. So full of people, colours, sounds and smells, so stifling… and yet, so empty. Bursting with bodies, clothes and buildings, noises clashing deafeningly and the air trying to choke you, but it all amounts to nothing. And what sucks more is that I was born here, lived here for my entire fifteen years on the planet, and I wasn't going to be able to leave it anytime soon.

Sometimes, I wish Tokyo didn't exist.

Sometimes, I wish other people didn't exist.

Other times, I wish I didn't exist.

Usually, by then, I slap myself for being an emo brat and change the song on my iPod to something more upbeat.

Today this happened as I passed the chemist on Shib-Q Heads. _Three Minutes Clapping_ invaded my skull in place of _Amnesia_ and I continued on my way, resisting the urge to clap along to the song. It was a pretty catchy tune, and it was one of my favorite "Neku cheer the hell up you emo" songs. Always made me feel better.

School consisted of routine, and the few precious hours I had after school to do as I pleased also, regrettably, followed a pattern. School was quite close to the famous statue of Hachiko, and close to that was a burger joint called Sunshine Station. If I was hungry, which wasn't often, I'd go in there and get something to eat. But because it was the closest burger joint to the school, it was always nearly bursting at the seams with students when school got out. I hate crowds, so I usually avoided the place unless my stomach was practically eating me alive. And even then it was a go in, get what you need and get the hell out situation.

Once past the dreaded statue of Hachiko, I'd wander off in the direction of AMX. AMX was my favorite music store – it was large, usually pretty empty, always had new stuff in and there was always decent music playing gently across the store. Most shops have these annoying salespeople who bug you the second you step through the door, with their in your face _would you like to buy this, sir, we have a special, sir; please may I lick your shoes, sir?_

I got banned from some random Mus Rattus store when I punched the clerk in the face for touching my hoodie and saying how ratty it was. Yeah, I'm ratty. Which one of us works at a store named after the Latin word for mouse? Get out of my face.

The dude behind the counter at AMX barely looks at me and says just over three words every time I buy something. Best service in Shibuya.

Still, I prefer Limewire. Don't have to deal with anyone at all, and though you might get a really low quality song, it's free. Always a plus.

Today, AMX held nothing of interest. Well, almost nothing. I had pretty much given up when a beaty song sounded over the PA. It was beaty and had a catchy opening, so I paused to listen.

_I have a ringing in my head,_

_And no one to help me answer it_

_Even with you close enough to kiss._

_Every minute is arranged,_

_Every moment lasts a day,_

_But thinkin' 'bout it can't help me let go_

_I know_

_Talk, talking a lot_

_But it's still talk_

_Gotta love how it's somehow all on me_

_All the petty scenes_

_And all the pretty things_

_Say whatever you want_

'_Cause I can laugh it off_

I looked expectantly at the dude behind the counter. I'd gotten onto some seriously awesome bands when I'd heard their songs in AMX, and the guy behind the counter knew me well enough to know that I often asked about the songs.

"Let it Happen, by Jimmy Eat World." He droned boredly, pointing across the store at the J section. I nodded and followed his gesture. I guess I liked this guy – he learned pretty fast. In the end I bought the CD. _Let it Happen_ was a pretty good song, and I looked forward to being able to listen to the rest of the songs later.

Once again, I hit the streets. After my song change at Shib-Q Heads, I found myself staring up at the wall tag in the Udagawa back streets.

I never planned to go there, but I always managed to wind up staring at it for a good twenty minutes every couple of days. It captivated me. Do what you want, when you want, how you want. And I wanted to just stare at it forever. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket, win a hundred million yen and give it to CAT if he painted an equally awesome mural on the wall of my bedroom. Or on the roof, so I could look up at it as I drift off to sleep. And maybe he could paint a mural in every room in my house, or maybe on every wall, then I wouldn't be able to look anywhere without seeing a bit of awesome… yeah, that'd be totally rad.

I hadn't noticed just how empty the streets were until that moment. Outside my headphones, the world was absolutely silent. Even the old concert posters that had fallen from the buildings and fluttered across the street like tumbleweed were quiet. So lost in my world of CAT and wall tags was I that I failed to notice anything was wrong, even when the music that had been drifting from the nearby music store had ceased.

I reached out to touch the mural, dreaming of a day when I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, however I wanted. Shibuya was so boring… I wished for some excitement.

Heavy footsteps and labored breathing sliced through my daydream, and I turned my head to spot a kid of about my age, sprinting towards me. The only thing I caught about him was that his hair was a sort of ash blonde and his shirt was grey, when I realized that he was carrying a gun. His eyes were wide and wild as the arm holding the gun went up and pointed at me. I didn't have time to react before a loud bang sounded and I fell backwards onto my butt, completely shocked.

"Argh, I blew it!" A voice cried out from behind me as I realized that I was unharmed and still alive. I turned slightly to spot a dark-skinned kid, a couple of years older than me and dressed completely in black, clutch his shoulder as a dark stain began to spread alarmingly fast. Did the blonde kid just shoot him!?

The guy in black raised his arm, also carrying a hand gun, expression nothing short of murderous. I thought the gun was pointed at me, and I covered my head and squeezed my eyes shut as he emptied the entire barrel at me.

Dazed and still in one piece, I looked over to the blonde kid, expecting him to be a bloody heap on the pavement. However, he was intact and smirking as the bullets that had been fired came to a complete halt inches before his face. They fell harmlessly to the ground with a clatter as he advanced slowly, gun at the ready. I froze, totally dumbstruck. Did that kid just stop bullets? What the hell was going on?

I didn't have to look to see the older guy turn tail and flee. The satisfaction on the boy's face and the sound of his footsteps and feral cries of pain told me enough. For a second, I felt a little safer. That was, until the boy's blonde head snapped back to me and he smirked, gun aimed at my head. I didn't even have time to blink.

And with that, there was a loud bang and I knew no more.

---

**Roughly One Month Later**

---

Math.

Double Math, first thing on Monday mornings.

I never really minded, but the other kids in my class were pretty convinced that this was Hell on Earth.

I always thought it was just because they were all bloody stupid, but it seems I was wrong. None of the kids in my class are stupid – they just don't like Maths. The blonde girl who sits in front of me is an amazing writer. I've often read her articles in the news letter; they're well written and humorous. And the kid who sits behind me is a super star when it comes to sports. Seriously, hand him a bat, racquet or a stick and he will give you the best game you've ever had. He's such a good sport he didn't seem to mind when I beat him over the head with a basketball last year. Directly to my left sits one of the most popular girls in school, with clothes so skimpy it would make even Shiki blush. She wasn't very academic, but she was actually pretty nice, even though she was ditzy. And to my diagonal right sat a boy who could play piano, guitar and the harmonica, all probably at the same time. I heard he had a scholarship to some famous school of the arts across the country. I think I'll be putting some of his songs on my iPod when he makes it to the big time.

The teacher waltzes in, screaming something about sine, cosine and tangent triangles. I chuckle. Trigonometry – my favorite topic. Minamimoto left me a little sore about the whole "math" thing, but come on; the triangles can't help it.

The blonde writer in front of me can't find her calculator. Good thing I have two – my big scientific calculator and the smaller, simpler one that my mother gave me on my first day of school, almost a decade ago. It's pretty scratched up, but it still works. I tap her shoulder and she turns to look at me, utterly bewildered at my actions.

"Here." I hand her my smaller calculator "It'll help a little."

Her eyebrows disappear into her hairline, but she smiles as takes it from me. The teacher sees my act and ditches a lollipop at my head as a reward – bean paste. Ugh. I toss it to the musician. Skinny bugger needs it more than me, because it'll be a long trip to the top of the charts.

Recess finds me on my own again, and I feel myself settle back into my routine.

Literature wasn't much better, but I actually tried to pay attention. Today's task was pretty simple – write a letter to someone whom you haven't seen for a while. I paused, considering my options. I didn't have any real friends before I played the Game, so I guessed I'd have to write a letter to Shiki, Beat, Rhyme, Joshua or Mr. H. I hadn't seen any of them for a week, and Rhyme for three. But what would I say to her? "Sorry I watched you die and did nothing"? Eh, that wouldn't work. Usually, when you write a letter to someone, you have something to say. So I should write a letter to the one with whom I had the most unresolved feelings, right?

"Sakuraba, start working, please." A gentle voice called out, and I realized that I'd been staring out of the window for fifteen minutes. Hurriedly, I picked up my pen and began to scrawl.

---

The old concert posters littered the ground in a multicolour mess. The buildings were just as grey as before, and the nearby music store radiated the gentle beat of three songs at once, but it was lost to my headphones. I glanced up at the wall tag, feeling something in my stomach churn.

_Same streets. Same crowds too. Yeah, Shibuya hasn't changed a bit. _

I reached out and gently began to fondly stroke the wall.

_But still. I don't think I can forgive you yet._

_You don't see it, but, those few weeks were very hard for me .Learning to trust people. Having that trust broken. Finding out the town I pegged as small, and stifling, and empty…_

A kid brushed past me as I walked through Tipsy Tose Hall, almost knocking me over. I bristled and continued on my way.

… _Wasn't any of those things._

_Trust your partner._

_And I do._

_I can't forgive you,_

_But I trust you._

The neon blue lights of AMX blinked down at me, but I somehow knew I wouldn't be going back in there for a while. My right hand went to my left shoulder, as if to steer me away from the store.

_You took care of things, right? Otherwise, Shibuya would be gone, and my world with it._

_Hey, did I mention? I've got friends now. We're getting together for the first time in a week!_

I paused, eyeing the statue of Hachiko from nearly a hundred feet away. Where were they?

… _See you there?_

"YO!"

"Over here~!"

I grinned across Hachiko, spotting the two skull beanies that were threatening to swallow the blonde heads of the waving Beat and Rhyme. I rushed over to greet them, receiving a full-on tackle hug from Rhyme, nearly knocking me to the ground. I hugged back happily, laughing as she tried to tell me all about her week in the space of three seconds. She released me from her deathly grip as I looked over at Beat, who was hurriedly trying to cover up his teary eyes. Laughing some more, I punched his shoulder and told him to man up, and he grabbed me in a headlock to hide the fact that he'd missed me. After he'd released me, we all started talking about the week, how much we'd missed each other and everything in general.

Suddenly, I felt a small tap on my shoulder and I turned to spot a short, dark-haired girl with a white skirt, a green jacket, large thin-famed glasses and a large black stuffed cat. Shiki. Rhyme and I grabbed her into a bear hug at the same time, while Beat watched on, eyes welling with tears again.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of laughter, hugs and hamburgers. Honestly, I was beginning to forget why I'd never had friends before, because I was having so much fun it had to be one of the best afternoons of my life. However, while I rejoiced at seeing my new friends, I couldn't help but feel my stomach sink with disappointment when I failed to spot the blonde curly hair of the most annoying boy on Earth.

Where was Joshua?

I mentally kicked myself for being stupid. I hadn't asked Joshua to come, I just wrote it in my book. As if he'd followed me around school, reading everything over my shoulder. He had a town to run, and he probably didn't want to see me again. I was just his proxy, nothing more. The image of his smirking face flooded my mind, the smoking gun pointed at me as I bled all over the floor, wondering what had just happened as I died. No way in Hell was I ever going to forgive him for it. That is, if I ever saw him again.

But still, I missed him, in a sick and twisted way.

"Neku?" A small voice asked, and I turned to see the dark-haired girl I now knew as Shiki. Her small face was concerned behind her glasses, and she hugged Mr. Mew close. A sort of nervous habit, I guess, but it somehow seemed to suit her more than it had suited Eri's body. "What's wrong?"

I didn't want to tell her about Joshua. Nobody could ever know how much he had hurt me. Nobody would understand what he meant to me.

I shrugged, ramming my hands into my pockets "Just feeling out of whack. Hanging out with people and all."

Shiki nodded slowly, patting my shoulder sympathetically "It'll be a hard thing to come to terms with, but we're all here for you." Wow, this girl always knew exactly what to say. Feeling a lot better about one thing, I offered her a smile.

"Thanks." My gaze turned back to the sky, watching the clouds overhead roll by, wishing with everything I had that I'd see Joshua again one day. Suddenly, two shining lights, like meteors or fireworks, rose swiftly overhead and were lost to the blue sky. I looked about, but nobody else had seemed to notice it. Turning back and blinking the lights out of my eyes, the next song on my iPod blared loudly.

_I must look like I'm running away_

_To you at your faster pace_

_Wonder what it is you could've seen_

_In me_

_I'm the evil one who said_

'_Gonna let everything just happen'_

_Like my chest my ears are proud_

_The collision is such an ugly sound._

_I can hear you now_

_Talk, talking a lot_

_But it's still talk_

_Gotta love how it's somehow all on me_

_All the petty scenes_

_And all the pretty things_

_Say whatever you want_

'_Cause I can laugh it off_

"Where are you, Joshua?" I murmured quietly to the air.

My hand rose instinctively and snagged the headphones. Before I knew it, they were on the ground, forgotten.

And I could hear at last.

---

**Author's Half-Cut Rambles:**_**Let it Happen**_** reminds me of Neku and Joshua. xD**

**I dunno what the hell was going through my head as I wrote this, but I think it's a bit of a comparison of Neku's life before and after the Game. This has probably been done billions of times before, but whatever.**

**Enjoy and review~**


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